


Love Is Like A Torch (It's Burning Bright)

by TheFifthCharmedOne



Series: When They Think of Me! Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, Bottom Cas/Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Gabriel/Top Sam Winchester, F/F, F/M, I did research on these mental illnesses, If you want info message me, Jealous Castiel, Jealous Gabriel, Little Shit Castiel, Little Shit Gabriel, Little Shit Sam, Little shit Dean, M/M, Nightmare Disorder, Panic Attacks, Pyromania
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-12-14 14:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11785560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFifthCharmedOne/pseuds/TheFifthCharmedOne
Summary: [Sequel to When They Think of Me (They Think of You)] Six months later, nobody expected this to happen. “What did you think? We were all going to live happily ever after? Please. Spare me your sparkly bullshit.” – Destiel, Sabriel, Anna/Charlie/Jo, Jess/Garth, and others.





	1. Afraid To Be Happy

Castiel Novak was a man of many things.

He was a loyal brother, a dedicated academic, a skilled artist, a recent graduate school alumnus, and a proud gay man.

His 6’0 frame was currently covered by a dark blue Christmas sweater and khaki dress pants. His sweater had obnoxious Christmas trees and reindeer art on it, on the back one of the animals was urinating on an evergreen tree. Despite the ridiculousness of it however, Cas appreciated its sentimentality, as it had been a gag gift from his brother Gabriel two Christmases previous.

He was currently holding a mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, and each time he sipped, he’d have to lick away the cream from his upper lip.

He could feel his boyfriend’s eyes on him as he did it, and he tried not to smirk.

“You bastard.” Dean growled into his ear. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

“What? I’m drinking my hot chocolate, Dean.” Cas said as innocently as he could.

“Uh huh.” Dean crowded closer and took the mug from Cas’s hands, set it on the table, and crashed their lips together. Cas’s squeak turned into a moan, and his hands instantly went to the back of Dean’s neck.

Soon enough, they were horizontal on the couch, the Christmas movie they’d been watching long forgotten.

Dean mumbled something against Cas’s neck.

“What?” Cas asked, breath hitching as Dean’s hand gravitated closer to the zipper of his pants.

“Move in with me.”

Cas froze. Dean shifted back so that he met the other man’s gaze, his green eyes soft with affection but also nervousness. “You’re here all the time anyway,” Dean continued, his teeth coming out to pull over his bottom lip. “I just figured…”

“Yes.” Cas said, surprising himself with the certainty in his voice. “Yes. I’ll move in with you.”

Dean’s smile is so wide and happy, Cas swore that their outdoor decorations brightened a little.

* * *

The next day, Dean and Cas went to their local IKEA (even though Cas was unsure about putting the furniture together themselves) and bought a king size bed.

“This is awesome,” Dean said happily as he and Cas ate lunch in the store. “Expensive, but awesome.”

“I agree.” Cas said, biting into his barbecue chicken sandwich. “So, should we start putting the bed together today?”

Dean swallowed a bite of his burger and pursed his lips in thought. He had a little bit of ketchup on his chin, and Cas reached over to wipe it away with his finger.

“Do you have to be so blatantly affectionate?” A woman asked them, scowling. Her bleached blond hair was perfectly straight, her pink tracksuit open to show off her overly exaggerated cleavage. “There are children present.” Indeed, there were toddlers and school-age children playing in the nearby attraction.

Suddenly losing his appetite, Cas leaned back from Dean, his face flaming in mortification.

“What the fuck is your problem, lady?” Dean demanded, and Cas’s head shot up at the pure anger in Dean’s voice. The other man got to his feet. “It’s not like we’re having sex in front of you, you might enjoy it too much.”

“Why I never-!” The woman cried, scandalized.

“Dean, let’s just go.” Cas urged, nervously glancing around at the other patrons, as they were starting to stare.

“No, Cas. We have every right to be here, just like she does.” Dean sat down emphatically, biting into his burger and chewing, only to open his mouth with the partially chewed food inside to show her. “See? Eating. Just like you’re enjoying your rabbit food.” He gestured to her salad.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas said quietly, but emphatically. “Please.”

“Is there a problem here?” A tall, African American man approached them, wearing a security guard’s uniform. His eyebrows were crinkled, emphasizing his receding hairline. His nametag read: “Rufus”.

“Oh thank God.” The woman proclaimed. “Can you please escort these two men out of here?”

“For what, ma’am?” the guard asked, glancing at Cas and Dean speculatively, but not judgmentally.

“For…” she made a disgusted face. “For broadcasting their _lifestyle_. It’s ruining my lunch.”

“Lifestyle?!” Dean shouted, slamming his hands down on the table. “I’m sorry, did you _choose_ to be straight?”

Indecision crossed the woman’s face momentarily, and the guard seemed briefly conflicted. As he looked at Dean closer though, any worry he might have had cleared from his face.

“To keep the peace, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” he said.

Dean and Cas turned to stare at him, only to be completely shocked when they realized the guard wasn’t talking to them.

The guard was talking to the woman.

“Are you talking to me?” She demanded. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You violated store policy by openly discriminating against a protected class.” The guard told her. “Now, please leave. Your food will be discarded for you.”

The woman grabbed her purse in a huff.

“Come on, Larry!” she screeched at her presumed husband, who had been watching the whole thing unfold in a spellbound silence. He stumbled to his feet and picked up the baby carriage that had been at his feet, the infant sleeping soundly inside. “Expect to hear from my lawyer!” the woman told the guard.

She stomped away, but not before spitting a final slur at Cas and Dean.

“Faggots.”

Rage flushed through Dean’s body and he made to charge after the woman, but Cas pulled him into an embrace, pressing his chin against his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Let’s go home, Dean. Please.”

The anger disappeared as quickly as it had come, and Dean thanked the guard before walking away, he and Cas holding hands, and not giving a damn who saw or what they thought.

“Winchester!” The guard called, and the couple turned back. “Give Bobby Singer my regards.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed, and he looked between the man’s nametag and his face. “You look so much like your daddy, it’s a wonder you’re not his clone. Got your mama’s light hair though.”

“Rufus?” Dean’s eyes widened like saucers. “Holy shit man, how’ve you been? I didn’t even recognize you!”

“That’s the point,” Rufus moved closer to the two men and said in a theatrical whisper, “I’m working a case.”  

“Rufus works for the FBI,” Dean explained to Cas. “He and Bobby have been friends for a couple decades at least. He used to hang around Singer Auto before he became a big shot.” 

“Boy, I’m not that old.” Rufus complained. “That oversensitive bitch needed to get out, though. You two weren’t even doing anything wrong.” Dean grinned.

“Turner!” A new voice shouted, and the three men saw a tall, slightly heavyset man in a guard’s uniform staring at them, arms crossed angrily. The homophobic woman was smirking beside him.

“Well, shit.” Rufus grunted. “You guys better get gone. Good seeing you, though.”

* * *

“For the record, you’ve never been more attractive to me than you were in that moment.” Cas told Dean once they were in the Impala, their new bed packed into the trunk.

“Is that so?” Dean asked, pressing his foot lazily against the brake pedal as they approached a traffic light. “Remind me to stand up to more homophobic bitches in the future, then.”

Cas snickered, but then looked down at his lap.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I wasn’t filled with righteous anger at the whole event,” Cas began, but Dean shook his head as the light turned green.

“I would have been shocked if you had, and probably made out with on the spot, but that’s not the point. You’re not a confrontational person, Cas. You avoid conflict whenever you can. Prob’ly has something to do with your brothers.”

“You know about my brothers?” Cas asked.

“Not a whole lot. Sammy told me a little, but not the whole story. I was waitin’ for you to come clean when you were ready.”

Floored by the patience and understanding Dean showed, Cas took the next opportunity to kiss him soundly on the lips, ending it once he felt the car begin to accelerate.

“Mm, you taste like barbecue sauce,” Dean grinned, and Cas smiled affectionately. “I think I wanna christen our mattress tonight, what do you say?”

Cas looked up at him with a sultry smirk.

“What did you have in mind?”

* * *

“Dean, really, Anna has more important things to do.” Cas said uncomfortably as he and Dean walked toward Anna and Gabriel’s apartment.

“Why don’t we let her decide that?” Dean challenged, and Cas groaned.

“You’re really hell bent on this, aren’t you?” asked Cas, nervously shifting his sketchbook from one arm to the other.

Dean stopped walking and grabbed Cas’s hand, rubbing his thumb across Cas’s knuckles.

“I’m just proud of you. I want everyone to see how talented you are.” Dean told him sweetly, and Cas huffed out a laugh.

“How am I supposed to argue with that?” Cas wanted to know.

“You’re not.” Dean pecked Cas on the lips just as they arrived at the doorstep of Cas’s former abode.

* * *

 “Yeah, of course I’ll paint these!” Anna Novak said cheerfully. “Might need some kickback for the supplies though.”

“No problem.” Dean said, and she smiled winningly at him. “So how are things with you and Charlie lately?” For the last six months, Anna had been dating Dean’s childhood friend Charlie Bradbury, and to the best of their knowledge, they were quite happy together.

Cas watched his sister’s expression change almost imperceptibly. It wasn’t something Dean would notice, or Anna would likely even realize that she’d done.

Her mouth fell into the tiniest of frowns before becoming her normal bright smile again.

“We’re all right. She’s busy getting used to living with Jo, I’ve got to prepare my lesson plans for next semester…” Anna had recently taken a position with Lawrence Public Schools as the third grade art teacher.

_Those sound like excuses to me._ Dean thought, his personal red flags going up. He didn’t want to cause any unnecessary problems though, so he kept his opinions to himself.

“Oh, by the way,” Anna said to Cas, her voice light. “I found an old photo album that we managed to salvage from the fire. It was on the floor of my room when we ran out.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed – fire? He looked over at Cas, only to see his boyfriend staring at his feet. “Oh. You didn’t know.” Anna said softly. “I’ll…give you a minute.”

Anna slipped out of her studio and left the two alone.

“You know that Anna, Gabriel and I spent the majority of my childhood on the road; but did you ever wonder why?”

Dean thought about it – in his attempt to wait for Cas to tell him when he was ready, he hadn’t really tried to piece it together on his own. He shook his head in answer to Cas, and the dark-haired man leaned his head back, eyes closed. “I have a total of four older brothers, and one sister. I was born in Salt Lake City, Utah; also known as the most religious city in the domestic United States. We were all named for angels: Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Anna, Gabriel, and me. When I was still in grade school, my mother died. Our father told us it was an accident, and then he left too.”

Cas finally looked over at Dean. “You can see why I have abandonment issues.” he said drily. Dean cracked a smile and prompted Cas to continue. “Michael and Lucifer took over raising us, as they were legally adults by the time our father disappeared. Raphael was arrested when he was thirteen, and sent to juvie. When he was released five years later, he came home and confronted Michael and Lucifer. I don’t know everything that they said; Gabriel and Anna covered my ears. The next morning, Gabriel shook me awake and told me the house was on fire. He, Anna, and I escaped. Raphael wasn’t home, and Michael had gone out.”

“Your brother set your house on fire?!” Dean cried, unable to contain himself any longer.

“Yes.” Cas said bluntly, never one to beat around the bush. “Anna almost suffered a psychotic break-”

“You would too if your big brother tried to kill you.” Anna said from the doorframe, where she had been leaning for the last few minutes. “Then we moved in with this elderly couple, the Miltons, and the rest is history.”

Dean blew out a long sigh.

“That’s some heavy stuff.” Dean began. “So you lost everything?”

“Yep.” Anna walked in and knelt down by a cardboard box. “Except this.” She beckoned the two men over, and they leaned over her shoulder to look inside.

The first picture was of a dark haired and fully bearded man and a smiling blond woman. A small blond boy was giving a brown haired boy bunny ears, a dark-skinned boy was scowling into the camera; a boy that Dean recognized as Gabriel had both Anna and Cas in headlocks.

“This was a few months before our mother died.” Anna said. “We were a happy family.”

She suddenly stood and gave the album to Cas. “You can look through it, I already did. Charlie’s coming over soon, so I should head downstairs to meet her.”

Cas sat down and folded his legs into a pretzel. Dean joined him, stretching his legs out as Cas pointed to each of his siblings. “Raphael was adopted. Michael and Lucifer were twins, and then Anna was born with the recessive Novak red hair. Gabriel came next, and then me.”

“You were cute even as a kid.” Dean said, and Cas rolled his eyes affectionately.

“I always looked up to Michael, always thought he was the greatest big brother ever.” Cas confessed. “I guess you could say I idolized him.”

“I did the same thing with my dad.” Dean told him. “Kind of explains why Sam was his favorite.”

As they went through the album, Dean asked questions about Cas’s family, and what life on the road was like.

“Michael and Lucifer don’t even look like siblings, let alone twins.” Dean commented. “You look a lot like your dad.”

“Gabriel says I got his looks.” Cas said, and Dean sensed a new tension in his tone, and reached over to close the album. “Dean-”

“This is upsetting you.”

“How do you know?”

Dean blinked, surprised at the anger in Cas’s question. “I’m sorry.” Cas sighed after a few minutes. “I was hoping it wasn’t obvious. I want to share this with you, I do. It’s just…” he shrugged helplessly.  

“I can read you like a book.” Dean cupped Cas’s face in his palm, turning the other man to face him. “What’re you scared of?”

“Being too happy.” Cas admitted. “You see it in the pictures – every time I’ve been happy, tragedy has followed. When I was younger, I believed I was cursed.”

“Nah.” Dean said, kissing Cas’s forehead, nose, then either side of his lips. “Curses ain’t real.” The timbre of his voice became more rough, but smooth at the same time – like uneven molasses. Cas shivered.

“You did that on purpose.” he accused, his face flaming when he realized what Dean was doing. “You know that does things to me.”

Dean smirked innocently.

“Payback’s a bitch.”

* * *

Sam Winchester was a simple man. He needed the bare necessities to be happy, and had been blessed so far with a solid family, awesome friends, and an amazing boyfriend.

His fingers danced over the keyboard of his ancient PC laptop, bringing life to all of the ideas in his head. His tongue was even curled over the right side of his lip as he worked, so he jumped slightly when he felt strong arms slip around him from behind.

“Mmm, come to bed Sam,” Gabriel murmured in his ear. “I miss you.”

“Be there in a minute,” Sam said, clicking save on the document and closing it before Gabriel could start reading it.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” Gabriel asked through a yawn, straightening up and stretching. He wore grey boxers and no shirt, and his hair was rumpled from sleep. Sam stood up for the first time in at least six hours, leaning back and stretching. He winced as his joints popped in protest.

“Nothing important.” Sam answered, removing his glasses and placing them on the desk.

Though he still technically lived with his ex-fiancé Jess, Sam spent far more time in Gabriel and Anna’s duplex. In fact, unless he had to go back to take Jess to work or something else routine, he basically lived with Gabriel. “Hey I’m not…you know, mooching off of you, am I?”

“Sam, it’s 3 A.M. I don’t want to answer your silly questions.” Gabriel told him. “But if I did want too, I’d say no. Mooching is when you overstay your welcome – trust me, I’ve done that a few times over the years – but I want you here. Anna loves you cuz’ you understand the difference between vegan and vegetarian, but also cuz’ you make me happy and junk.” Gabriel tilted his head in the way that Cas often did when he didn’t understand something. “Why?”

“No reason.” Sam said. “I just…with Jess and Garth getting more and more serious…”

Gabriel said nothing as he wrapped his fingers around Sam’s hand and pulled him onto their bed and kissed him passionately.

“Why Sammy…” Gabriel said in a scandalized tone. “Are you asking to move in?”

“Only Dean calls me Sammy,” Sam grumbled, not answering the question. Gabriel chuckled.

“You’re so cute, you know that?” the shorter man informed him. “Let’s talk about this more in the morning. The longer we stay horizontal like this, the more interested my cock gets.”

Indeed, Sam could feel Gabriel’s half hard dick pressing against his thigh. Sam pressed his weight into his hands and knees and ground his hips against Gabriel’s tauntingly. He then rolled over to his side of the bed and curled up as though he was going to go to sleep right then and there.

“Oh, you little tease.” Gabriel growled, and tackled Sam, living concerns forgotten for the moment.

* * *

Around 9 AM, Sam’s nostrils picked up on the scent of rich cinnamon and maple syrup, but the smell was far too close to be coming from the kitchen. He opened his eyes and found Gabriel, now wearing his favorite lounging pants and a Las Vegas, Nevada t-shirt, holding a platter of perfectly baked pancakes with bananas on top, a cup of coffee, and a glass of juice.

“What’s this for?” Sam asked.

“You looked so cute sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you. So I brought you breakfast in bed.” Sam reached up to take the tray.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Sam told him, touched that Gabriel had done something so sweet.

“I wanted too. Plus, it’ll give me practice.”

“Practice?” asked Sam, picking up his knife and fork. Gabriel paused, but Sam knew he’d say what he wanted to say eventually.

Buttery deliciousness filled Sam’s mouth as he took a bite, and he moaned in appreciation. He made sure to lather the pancakes with syrup, the way he had when he and Dean were kids. He ate so fast that he was probably going to have some indigestion later, but looked up when his boyfriend spoke.

“I want to open my own bakery.”

Sam turned to look at Gabriel, who had moved to sit beside him on the bed. “Spending most of my teenage years on the run, it gave me a chance to really figure out what I wanted to do once I settled down. Now that we’re here in Lawrence, no brothers or baggage in sight…I just can’t help but feel like this is the perfect time.”

“Go for it!” cheered Sam, and Gabriel glanced at him in surprise.

“No ‘it’s going to take a long time’ or ‘it’s silly’ lectures?”

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t support your dreams? You’ve never discouraged me from college or law school, why should I try and stop you from starting your own business, especially if this is,” he gestured to the empty plate “-is the result?”

For some reason, Gabriel felt a laugh bubbling in his chest. He knew it wasn’t exactly the right time, but he couldn’t stop once he got started. He let out a full guffaw, the kind that made is hard to breathe and had him holding his stomach.

He saw Sam was giving him a bitch face, and that just made him smirk.

“I couldn’t help myself, you were just being so sweet and earnest.” Sam mumbled something, but instead of questioning what it was, Gabriel removed the tray and set it aside. “Now, what do you say we finish what we started last night? 

* * *

Winter sunlight shone brightly on the roof of the bright red Chevy Camaro that Dean was working on. His scooter was firm under his back, rolling slightly as he shifted and worked with the car’s inner mechanics.

“Hey Dean!” Bobby shouted, and Dean rolled out from under the car.

“Yeah, Bobby?” he called back.

“Can you come on back to the office for a sec?” Dean stood up and dropped his tools into his nearby toolbox, pulling up the hem of his shirt to dab at the sweat on his forehead. It didn’t matter what time of year it was, car garages were always hot and busy.

Dean ambled to the back office, completely unaware of the shadow that followed him.

Gordon Walker was an African American man of medium height and build. He’d been working at Singer Auto since it opened in the late 90s. He’d always been suspicious of Dean and Bobby’s bond, because while he and Bobby had gotten along, it was clear that Dean was his favorite.

“Close the door.” Dean swung the door to the office shut behind him, but neither man saw Gordon’s foot slide between the door and the threshold, stopping it from closing completely.

Bobby had taken off his trucker’s hat and was running a hand through his sweaty hair. At 67, he looked pretty good, though bits of gray had begun to sneak into his beard and the top of his hairline.

“Dean, there’s no way to sugarcoat this. I ain’t gettin’ any younger, and with this damned chair, I can’t run the shop the way I’d like too. Jo’s away at school, Ellen’s running the Roadhouse…I can’t help but feel like it’s time to retire.” Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Bobby held up a hand. “It’s clear to everyone that knows you you’re good with cars, you handle the customers well enough, and my staff respects you.”

Gordon had to resist the urge to snort. Respect was a strong word for what Gordon felt about Dean Winchester. “So, I guess what I’m saying is: do you want to take over my shop?”

Dean blinked.

“Bobby, I…”

“Take some time to think about it. Hell, take the rest of the day off. Go home, talk to Cas. There’s no time limit on it. I just want to know that the shop will be taken care of.”

Jealous rage consumed Gordon as Dean walked right past him in a haze.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Gordon demanded, throwing open the door as soon as Dean was out of hearing range. “ _Him_?!”

“Oh, hey Gordon. Nice of you to drop in.” Bobby said, not at all surprised. “How long were you out there eavesdroppin’?”

“Long enough. Bobby, I don’t have to tell you that I’ve been here since you opened. If anyone should take it over, it’s me.”

“Answer me this: other than years of service, why should I even consider you?”

Gordon licked his lips, any answer disappearing from his mind. “That’s what I thought. You’re a good mechanic; but it takes more than that to run a business.”

“He’s an alcoholic!” Gordon protested.

“An alcoholic that’s been sober for 912 days. He got his two year sobriety token a few months ago.” Bobby said coldly. “And he’s going to KU for his Bachelor’s degree in Engineering. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you drop out of high school?”

Gordon said nothing as he balled his hands into fists, glaring at the wall. “Now get out of my office.” Bobby finished, and Gordon did, slamming the door on his way out.

_This isn’t over._ Gordon thought, staring at Dean as he climbed onto his motorcycle. _Not by a long shot._

* * *

_Congratulations! You have completed your application for:_

**_Doctorate in Psychology_ **

_at Columbia University!_

_Please do not call the Office of Admissions unless you have a legitimate concern about your application. It can take up to three months for our staff to make a decision._

Cas leaned back and sighed, running a hand through his hair. New York wasn’t around the corner, but a desire to leave, to get away, itched under his skin like a persistent bug bite.

The door to his and Dean’s apartment opened and shut, so Cas hastily closed out the browser window. He wasn’t going to say anything to Dean until he knew for sure whether he was going or not.

“Cas? You here?” Dean called.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, and Dean walked over to him, pulled him to his feet, and pressed his forehead against the other man’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Been better.” Dean answered. “Bobby asked me to take over the shop for him.”

Cas pushed Dean and arm’s length away and tried to look into his eyes. The green-haired man was staring at the floor.

“Dean, that’s fantastic! You’ve always wanted to own your own shop!”

“Sure, but I never…I don’t think I can handle the responsibility.”

“And how do you know unless you try?” Cas asked, pulling Dean into a hug once again. “You don’t have to make any decisions now. Come on – let’s go to the Roadhouse. You’ll feel better.”

“You’re the best, Cas.” Dean told him.

Guilt chewed on Cas’s heart as Dean looked at him with so much admiration and love in his eyes.

_It’s only temporary._ He told himself. _I might not even get in._  

As he and Dean bundled up in their winter attire, Cas’s stomach rebelled intensely against the idea of food, but he didn’t care. The Roadhouse always made Dean feel better, and even if Cas didn’t eat, he’d at least get to see Dean smile.

That’d be enough.

* * *

 


	2. Making Amends

Armed with a full basket of dirty clothes, Gabriel stampeded down the steps of his duplex, headed toward the basement laundry room.  

He heard the door open behind him.

“Anna?” he questioned, and when she didn’t answer immediately, dread shot down his spine like an electric current.  

“Not quite.”

Gabriel whirled around and the laundry basket clattered to the floor, the clothes spilling across the linoleum.

“What are you doing here?” the second youngest Novak demanded, his mouth suddenly as dry as sandpaper. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at the newcomer, taking in his changed appearance.

Dirty blond hair arched upward over a medium-sized forehead, accompanied by a diamond-shaped face, long neck, and thinly muscled frame. His height hovered between 6’1 and 6’2. In Gabriel’s mind, the invader had blood red eyes to match his evil personality.

“It’s been a long time.” Lucifer Novak crooned.

“Eighteen years since you tried to burn your family to a crisp.” Gabriel said bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here?” he repeated. “How did you even get in?”

“You need to be sneakier about hiding your spares.” Lucifer held up the small bronze key, which glinted glaringly in the fluorescent lights. “It’s cute that you check to see who’s coming in.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“So fresh.” Lucifer tsked. “Aren’t you at least a little bit happy to see me?”

“Why should I be?”

Lucifer’s head tilted, his chin jutting out. The striking similarity to Cas made Gabriel’s stomach clench.

“We’re family, Gabriel. Blood.”

“You’re nothing to me.” Gabriel growled. “Now get out before I beat the shit out of you.”

A shadow passed over Lucifer’s face. If Gabriel didn’t know any better, he would almost categorize it as regret.

“I knew that you wouldn’t be rolling out the red carpet for me, but threats are a bit excessive. You won’t even let me explain myself.”

“What’s there to explain?”

“Gabe?” A new voice called.

“Anna, can you come down here please?”

Whether it was the use of the word please, or just the eerily calm to Gabriel’s voice when he said it, the two brothers heard something hit the ground before Anna came stomping down the steps. She stopped in the doorway and her face drained of color 

“Luke?” she asked faintly.

“Hey, baby sis.” Lucifer put his hand up as if to wave and then thought better of it. Anna blinked rapidly, as though she was trying to shake herself out of a dream.

Or in this case, a nightmare.

* * *

 

“Hey Cas, could you hand me that socket wrench?” Cas knelt down beside his boyfriend and gave him what he thought was the requested tool. Dean rolled out from under the car, smiling bemusedly.

“This isn’t a socket wrench.” Dean dropped the tool into the box and picked up the right one.

“In my defense, they all look similar.” Cas told him, and Dean just shook his head in bemusement. “I’m a scholar, not a mechanic.” he continued sulkily, and Dean interlocked their fingers, kissing Cas’s knuckles.

“You okay?” Dean asked, watching as Cas’s expressive blue eyes darkened guiltily. “Something seems off.”

“I just…” Cas shrugged. “I want to get away. Go somewhere else.” Dean waited for him to continue. “I spent most of my formative years on the move, so staying in one place has never worked for me.”

“So you want to go on vacation?” Dean asked. “Where do you want to go?”

Cas’s heart thumped painfully in his chest – maybe he’d been wrong not to tell Dean about Columbia. If he was this open about traveling…

“Dean, I…I have to tell you something.” Cas said, and the other man’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Castiel.”

Cas turned, and the color disappeared from his face so fast that Dean thought he’d pass out right there. His shoulders hunched in defensively, but his eyes never left the stranger’s face.

“Hello, Michael.”

Dean glanced between his boyfriend and the newcomer, barely able to believe his eyes.

The eldest Novak sibling was tall and lean, probably around 6’2, with dark hair and a square shaped face. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a hoodie, and jeans.

“Michael Novak,” the dark-haired man said to Dean, offering his hand for a handshake. “You are?”

“Dean Winchester.” the mechanic said, still watching Cas in concern. “Is there something I can help you with?” he asked reflexively, as though suddenly remembering he was still at work.

“Perhaps. I wish to have a family reunion of sorts. My twin is currently with Gabriel and Anna, and I am here, hoping to convince my youngest brother to have dinner with us. However, if he doesn’t want to talk to me, I’m willing to leave the address of the establishment where we have reservations.”

Cas said nothing, his fists clenched tightly against his thighs.

“Cas, can I talk to you for a second?” When the brown-haired man didn’t respond, Dean wrapped a firm hand around the other’s elbow and pulled him toward the back office.

“I always knew this day would come. I just thought I would be more prepared when it did.”

“What do you want to do?” Dean asked. He had never seen Cas this way.

“Dean! We got a 1957 Studebaker here that needs a state inspection!” Bobby’s voice called from the garage. Something sparked in the back of Dean’s mind, a memory, but it wasn’t strong enough to distract him from Cas.

“Go ahead. I’ll be fine. I just need to get myself together.” Cas told Dean, and after some hesitation, the other man walked out into the garage.

A few minutes later, Cas came out, and found a handwritten note sitting on the hood of the car Dean had been working on a few minutes ago. Michael was nowhere to be seen.

_Harvelle’s Roadhouse_

_Reservation at 6pm_

_Hope to see you there, little brother._

_-M_

* * *

 

6:00 PM came far too quickly for Castiel’s liking. He and Dean had agreed to come together, especially after talking with Gabriel and Anna. Gabriel had suggested Charlie come, but Anna reminded him that she was going to pick up Jo from the airport. (Never mind that she and Charlie hadn’t spoken since their last disagreement.)

Gabe hadn’t wanted to come to dinner at all, but the combined efforts of Anna and Sam were enough to at the very least get him to agree to drinks.

“I’m going to need something stronger than whiskey for this.” Gabe grumbled.

The Roadhouse was empty except for two men, seated at the centermost table. An uncomfortable chill shot down Dean’s spine at the complete silence – he was used to music and chatter filling the air of the restaurant. He felt the wrongness of it like heartburn and acid reflux, all at once.

Ellen leaned casually against the bar, drying an already pristine beer mug. Clearly, she was keeping watch to make sure that things didn’t go south. Bobby probably wasn’t far away either. For that, Dean was thankful.

Michael looked exactly the same as he had a few hours before, and Cas grabbed Dean’s hand reflexively. The latter’s heart did a happy little squirm, but he quashed it before it could come to full fruition.

Lucifer had sandy blond hair and similar bone structure to his brother, but that was where the similarities ended. Dean knew that twins could be identical or fraternal – but these two didn’t even look like they had the same parents.

“Hello.” Lucifer said quietly. “Let’s just get straight to the point.” The blond sat on the table with his hands folded. “I didn’t want to hurt any of you.”

Gabriel snorted and Sam squeezed his knee to keep him from objecting. Gabe glared at Sam, who was watching Lucifer and not paying attention. Cas blew out a long breath, resting his elbows against his knees. Anna kept her face carefully neutral.

“I was just so angry…Father was gone, Raphael was lashing out, Anna was getting ready to leave…” he bowed his head dejectedly. “I realize what I did was unforgivable, but…I got help. I went to a therapist and a psychiatrist and…” Lucifer let out a shaky sigh. “I’ve been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It explains everything. The manic episodes, the months of depression afterward…the… _destructive_ behavior…”

“You mean to tell us that, after all these years, you have a mental illness, and that’s why you nearly killed us all?” Gabriel shot out of his chair. “That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

“Gabe, give him a chance.” Sam said, and Gabe narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend.

“Why should I? News flash, Sam; not everyone is as unhealthily codependent as you and the squirrel here.” He gestured to Dean. “If you think I’m going to forgive him because he’s sick, you’re crazier than he is.” Before Sam could say anything else, Gabe stomped out of the restaurant back to his apartment.

Sam got up and follow him, but Anna puts a gentle hand on his arm, causing him to turn to her. “Let him cool down first. When he gets like this, he says things he doesn’t mean.”

Meanwhile, Cas was resting his elbows on his knees and breathing heavily. Dean was rubbing his back and trying to keep him calm, all while glaring menacingly at Luke.

* * *

Later that night, Charlie Bradbury sat at Wichita Dwight D. Eisenhower National Airport with one leg crossed over the other, scrolling through Tumblr on her phone. She snorted at some of the posts and laughed at others, earning some strange looks from the people around her.

“Charlie!”

Jo Harvelle jogged toward the redhead, pulling a suitcase behind her and adjusting the backpack on her back.

“Jo!” Charlie pocketed her phone and went over to hug the blonde. The student’s hair was pulled into a messy top bun, her face pale and tired, but her smile radiated happiness. She wore a dark purple hoodie with gold letters spelling UALBANY across the chest. “How were your flights?”

“Not bad. I slept most of the way from Albany to Chicago.”

“I could never sleep on planes. Cars, sure. Trains, maybe. But definitely not planes.”

“I sold my soul to the devil known as finals.” Jo joked. “I guess I needed to rest.” Charlie smiled, though the expression felt strange on her face, and she realized in that moment that she hadn’t been happy enough to smile in months.  

The two girls started walking toward the airport exit, and as soon as the winds of Wichita hit their cheeks, Jo shivered.

“I forgot how cold Kansas can get,” she said in embarrassment.

“My car isn’t far; and Dean just put in a new heater for me.”

“Ooh nice.” Jo smiled, and the pink of her cheeks made Charlie’s breath catch. Jo’s brown eyes seemed to sparkle like the Kansas stars, and her stomach flipped uncomfortably. “Hello? Charlie? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, sorry about that.” Charlie replied.

It wasn’t until much later that Charlie realized she hadn’t thought about Anna at all after she met up with Jo.

* * *

“Attention library patrons, the Pontiac Public Library will be closing in thirty minutes. Please bring any items you wish to borrow to the circulation desk.”

The city library of Pontiac, Illinois was mostly empty, except for one young woman, who was sitting at computer #2, typing furiously.

_I want to meet you. Where are you?_

She hesitated before pressing enter, her heart thudding in her chest. Breathing in deeply, and let it out with a sigh and sent the message.

 _I want to meet you too, Claire._ The return message said after a few torturous minutes. _Currently I’m in Lawrence, Kansas, trying to reconnect with my – our – family._

Family. Claire thought, a smile gracing her face despite herself. Her hand instantly grabbed at the locket she never took off – it had her mother’s picture inside and had once belonged to her grandfather.

Claire clicked open a new tab and looked up airline prices. Her heart sunk as she perused the options – the cheapest was almost $200. Not to mention getting to the airport…and what she would do once she got to Lawrence…

_That’s farther than I can afford._

_Don’t worry about the cost. I will take care of it._

Claire sat back in her chair, unable to believe the words before her. He was offering to cover her travel costs?

Another message popped onto the screen: _I will e-mail you my credit card information. I’m looking forward to meeting you._

“Miss?” A security guard approached Claire, and she jumped slightly. “Sorry to disturb you but the library is about to close for the evening. Do you have any items you wish to borrow?”

“N-No.” Claire stammered. “Uh, thanks.”

She gathered her things and closed out her browser, her stomach turning with nervous and excited butterflies. She practically ran from the library to the local bus stop, where she slid her transit pass and went to the far back of the vehicle, resolving to listen to music for the entire ride to her job at the diner.

Claire Novak was twenty – old enough to be an adult, but not to drink in a bar. Her mother, Amelia, had died five years before from breast cancer, and Claire had lived with her grandparents until she was eighteen.

After that, she became a drifter, never staying anywhere longer than six months. Eventually she ended up back in Pontiac, but her grandparents had both passed away and left her nothing – she supposed telling them that she wanted nothing to do with them the last night she saw them could lead to disinheritance.

That was when she’d gotten the message from Luke Novak, her biological father. Her mother had been trying to adopt for years, but ultimately decided on being inseminated with a stranger’s sperm, and from there, Claire was born. After discovering the truth about her parentage, she’d spent most of her teenage years searching for her father whenever she could sneak onto her grandfather’s computer without her grandmother looking over her shoulder.

Six months ago, she finally got a response, and they began chatting constantly. They had even Skyped more than once, but the connection was always so grainy that she never got a clear view of his face.

Her phone vibrated with a mail alert – she only had service because she’d signed up for one of those cheap monthly plans and the company never ended her trial – even though it was long past the expiration date.

She opened the new email from Luke – her _dad_ – and saw the promised credit card information. She sent him a quick response and went back to her musing until the bus arrived at the stop for Randy’s Diner.

“Hey, C.” Alex, her one and only friend, greeted from the server’s podium. “Salinger from the Health Department is here, be on your best behavior.”

“Aren’t I always?” Claire replied with her usual sarcasm, only for her expression to turn serious. “Can I talk to you about something?

“For sure.” Alex answered. “Want a ride home?”

To Alex, home meant the group shelter that Claire slept in and where they had met. Claire, personally, didn’t see that grungy cesspool as home, but she wasn’t going to tell Alex that. Celia, the director, and her legion of vampires (as Claire had dubbed them, to Alex’s annoyance) had practically raised Alex after her drug addict mother had left her there as a baby.

“Yeah.” Claire said finally, and continued walking back to the locker area without another word to her friend.

* * *

After their shift, Alex and Claire walked out to the group home’s rusty sedan and got inside, only for Alex to start interrogating Claire.

“Okay, you’ve been acting weird all night. I want to know what’s up now.”

Claire sighed.

“You know how I’ve been talking to my dad for the last few months, right?”

“Yeah…” Alex prompted.

“Well, he wants to meet me. In person.”

Alex’s eyes widened.

“For real?” she asked, and Claire nodded. “Why don’t you seem stoked?”

“Because he’s in Lawrence, Kansas. It’s too far for me to afford on a waitress’s salary.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t have a plan.”

“I mean he sent me his credit card information but-”

“And you haven’t scheduled your flight why?” Alex cut Claire off, and the latter narrowed her eyes. “Sorry.”

“I just…what if he’s a total creep? Or like not my real dad?”

“He sent you a picture of himself, didn’t he?” Alex asked. “You two couldn’t look more alike if you tried; and the response to that is simple: DNA test ASAP.”

“But…what about you? And Randy?”

“I’ll be fine. Just make sure you keep in touch.” Alex told her, turning around to start the car’s ignition, seemingly satisfied with the outcome of her interrogation. “And Randy is a big boy. He can handle himself.”

* * *

Randy Critchlow’s bruised and broken body fell to the concrete with a wet thud. The restaurant owner groaned in pain.

“I’ve been keeping you out of bankruptcy too long, Critchlow.” Salinger, the dark-haired and mysterious loan shark growled, kicking Randy in the stomach for good measure. “It’s time it started benefiting me.”

Salinger looked up as headlights passed the alley behind the restaurant, and he caught side of the blonde waitress he’d seen earlier. “Starting…with her.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, long time no update! So sorry about that – grad school and looking for a new job took over my life for the last few months, but now I’m done for the semester and settling in at my new place, so I should be able to update more often now! Key word being should – I’m still working with an incomplete outline, so we’ll see what happens with that. 
> 
> That said, I know this is a little shorter than the first chapter but that’s because everything happened that was supposed to happen so adding much more would have just been stupid fluff. So I’m posting it now, and I hope you guys like it!
> 
> Please let me know what you think!
> 
> -Charmy
> 
> P.S. Randy's last name was never said in canon, so I just took the last name of the actor that played him.


	3. Seeds of Doubt

Charlie awoke to the instrumental opening of _Game of Thrones_ and stumbled to the bathroom. Rubbing her eyes and yawning, she realized with a jolt that she wasn’t alone in the room and that Jo was curling her hair…

…wearing only a lacy black bra and matching underwear.

The bra hugged her supple breasts and pushed them up ever so slightly, while her underwear accentuated her already perfectly round butt.

“Morning!” Jo greeted, smiling widely. “How’d you sleep?”

“Need…coffee…” Charlie murmured in response, trying to fight down the waves of heat that scorched her loins.  

“Already made some.” Jo told her, and Charlie wanted to kiss her.

_You have a girlfriend._ Charlie reminded herself, taking out her phone to check the notifications. Naturally, she also saw the picture of herself and Anna that she had saved as her background. A long group message greeted her – it had at least thirty other recipients.

**_You’re Invited to join the Live Action Roleplaying Game:_ **

**_Heartguard: The Romance War_ **

**_Location:_ **

**_Parking Lots 104 &105 (starts at the intersection of Iowa and W. 19th Streets)_ **

**_University of Kansas – Lawrence Campus_ **

**_Lawrence, KS 66044_ **

**_Open Roles:_ **

**_The Heart King/Queen_ **

**_The Spade Emperor/Empress_ **

**_The Jacque/Jacqueline of All Trade_ ** ****

**_For more information, contact Benny Lafitte or Kevin Tran._ **

**_May your heart be your guide._ **

Charlie looked up from the message just as Jo brushed past her in her almost-naked glory. The redhead caught a whiff of shampoo and lotion, a scent as unique as the sun was bright, and the heat returned full force.

* * *

Dean pushed open the old aluminum garage door of Singer Auto, flicking the light switch and going about the normal opening routine.

“You don’t deserve this place,” Dean jumped at the new voice, and found Gordon leaned against a tool bench, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re a worthless drunken faggot.”

“Good morning to you too, Gordon.” Dean said, faking a cheerful tone and adding a mocking wave. “For your information, asswipe, I’ve been sober for-”

“Over 900 days, do you want a fucking medal?” Gordon replied plainly, even as Dean’s glare turned venomous. “You’ve always been Bobby’s favorite, only God knows why. Now he’s going to give you the shop, when I’ve worked here longer, don’t just leave to deal with my family drama, and can be relied on far more than you can?” Gordon scoffed, giving Dean a once over. “Tell me, Dean. Do you shove it up your boyfriend’s ass, or does he shove it up yours?”

In the blink of an eye, Dean had Gordon pinned to the nearby wall, his forearm pressed against the black man’s throat.

“You can say whatever the fuck you want to me, but don’t you dare bring Cas into this.”

“Into what, Dean?” Gordon asked. “He’s already a bitch in heat for you, following you around like a fucking puppy. It’s disgusting and unnatural.”

Dean pressed his arm harder into Gordon’s throat and smirked viciously when the other man gagged.

“You listen to me and you listen good, you son of a bitch. I’ve never liked you and you’ve never liked me.” Dean growled.

“Understatement of the millennium,” Gordon interrupted. Dean narrowed his gaze even further, his green pupils like slits in the dim light.

“What Bobby does with his shop is his choice, and trying to scare or bait me out of the running ain’t gonna work; and when Bobby finds out the truth about you – that you’re a homophobic piece of shit – you can be damn sure that you’ll be out on your ass in two shakes.”

“And are you gonna snitch on me?”

“No. I’ll let you hang yourself. Just leave Cas alone, or I swear to God I’ll make you regret it.”

Dean pulled back, but before Gordon could retaliate, the shorter man nailed him with a vicious right hook, sending him sprawling to the concrete floor.

* * *

Cas grunted in his sleep; he was lying flat on his back with his right arm bent across his chest and his left bent around his pillow.

_“Get outside as fast as you can. Now Dean go!” John Winchester was saying to his young son, who was holding an infant Sam in his small arms. Behind them, an ominous and almost demonic orange glow seemed to intensify, and while Dean went running in the opposite direction, John went toward it._

_“MARY!” he screamed. “No!” The fire rushed toward John with intent, and the dark haired man knew there was no hope for his wife._

_He followed where Dean had gone and picked both of his sons up and ran for the Impala, parked across the street, just as the windows of Sam’s nursery exploded, raining glass over them like grotesque fireworks._

_-_

_A Halloween party. A pretty blonde – Jess? – dressed up as a nurse. Sam, clearly older than before but still fairly young._

_“Dad’s on a hunting trip…and he hasn’t been home in a few days.”_

_Dean and Sam, hunting a Woman in White…Constance Welch…_

_Sam coming home..._

_Blood dripped down from the ceiling to Sam’s face and chin, and the horrified gasp broke something in Cas as he watched Dean save his brother the way he had two decades before._

Cas shot up in bed at the sound of a phone ringing and grabbed for it while wiping at the cold sweat that perforated his forehead.

“H-Hello?” he stammered.

“Castiel? It’s Dr. Briggs.”

Cas cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“Yes – I –I mean no. I mean…how are you, Doctor?”

“I’m well, thank you for asking. I’m calling because I received a call from the Columbia University Office of Admissions concerning your doctorate degree…”

“Yes, yes. I put you down as a reference, I hope that’s all right.”

“That’s perfectly fine; however, I am curious about your reasoning for choosing Columbia when your previous degrees are from the University of Kansas.”

“I…well. I find I’ve been bitten by the wanderlust bug, and Columbia has a wonderful psychology program…” Cas knew his reasons were weak, but he couldn’t exactly explain his true motivations.

“As does KU.” Naomi told Cas, her voice slightly clipped. “I’m sorry if I sound biased, but I just feel as though going all the way to New York is hasty and unnecessary, especially since we have a program here that would gladly accept you.”

Irritation flushed through Cas, and he rubbed at the crease between his brows.

“I appreciate your concern, Dr. Briggs, but I believe the decision of which school I choose to attend to continue my education is mine and mine alone.”

“Of course.” Dr. Briggs placated. “I just don’t want you to make the wrong choice.”

Cas sighed and ran a hand through his hair, standing and stretching. Dean’s side of their bed was long cold – he’d gone to the shop early, and for that, Cas was strangely thankful.

“Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” Cas told the professor and ended the call before she could respond.

* * *

On her end, Naomi slammed her phone down and huffed in annoyance. How dare he act as though she had no say in his future, his destiny!

Her gaze settled on the blinking voicemail indicator and she smiled.

_“Naomi, this is Agent Chuck Shurley of the U.S. Marshalls. I’m calling…”_ She knew how the rest of the voicemail went, and she had yet to respond to his query.

She thought about the way Castiel had answered the phone, his pathetic argument for going to Columbia, when everything he loved was here. Still, her star pupil had surprised her on multiple occasions with his resourcefulness and impulsivity.

Perhaps it was time to give Mr. Shurley a call…

* * *

Dean rolled out from under the Studebaker two-door sedan, wiping his oily hands on a dirty cloth. He was almost done with the car’s inspection, he just had to fill out the paperwork and sign the stickers.

“Dean!” The mechanic turned only to be tackled by a rambunctiously feisty blonde, who he hugged back just as fiercely.

“Hey short stuff!” Dean greeted Jo as she climbed out of his arms. “How’s my favorite college student?”

“Great! How’s my favorite mechanic?” Jo couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Dean – they had been close for years, she was like the little sister he’d never had. It was actually thanks to Dean that Jo was able to go to SUNY at all – he’d convinced Ellen to cut the umbilical cord and let her baby fly away. It was a debt that Jo didn’t think she’d ever be able to repay.

“Still makin the moves with the ladies I see,” Dean and Jo turned to see a familiar face – only to Dean, of course.

“Shut up, she’s practically my sister.” Dean went in for a hug, which the stranger happily took. “How the hell have you been, Benny?” Dean asked.

The newcomer was roughly 6’2 with a carefully manicured beard and haunted gaze. He wore a black flat cap, button-down shirt and nice slacks. His hair was a golden brown, not quite brunet but not quite blond either.

“I’ve been holdin’ up, brother. No complaints.” Benny replied.

Jo slugged Dean’s shoulder, never to be outdone or forgotten.

“You gonna introduce us?”

“Benny, this is Joanna Beth Harvelle, but she usually goes by Jo. Jo, this is Benny Lafitte; he was one of my best friends in high school, also known as Purgatory.”

Benny laughed out loud.

“I forgot we called it that!”

“Winchester, enough schmoozing; get back to work!” Gordon ordered as if he had any power to tell Dean what to do. Dean opened his mouth to say as such, but Jo beat him to it.

“Go be an asshole somewhere else, Gordon.” The blonde said. “Or did you forget that your boss is my stepdad?”

Gordon’s lip curled, and after leveling Dean with a glare but left the group to continue catching up. Dean took a perverse pleasure in the purpling bruise along Gordon’s right cheekbone.

“What’s got his panties in a twist?” Benny asked, jerking his head toward Gordon’s retreating back.

“Bobby – he’s the owner of the shop – offered me ownership of the place after he retires, but Gordon doesn’t think I deserve it; one, because I’m gay, two, because I’m a former alcoholic, and three because I haven’t been working in the garage since I dropped out of high school.”

“Hmph. He doesn’t seem like quite the upstanding citizen either.” Benny answered. Dean chuckled.

“He does have a point though, I need to get back to this state inspection.” Dean gestured to the Studebaker, and Benny grinned.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t recognize Ol’ Queen Bess here.”

“I did, actually, but I was a bit distracted with Cas – he’s my boyfriend – when Bobby brought it in.”

“Aha.” Benny smiled. “It’s good to see you, Dean.”

“You too.” Dean agreed. “Want to catch up more tonight? I’ll buy the first round.”

“You just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.” Benny winked, and as he did, his phone chirped, signaling a text message.

**_Unknown Number_ **

_Is this who I contact for the LARP?_

He tapped out a quick response.

_You got it. You wanna join?_

* * *

 

Charlie had a Dorito halfway to her mouth as her phone signaled a response from an unknown number. Sliding the chip between her teeth, she opened it and smiled so widely she accidentally bit to the chip in two.

_Tell me a bit more about the game. Ya know, the story, the stakes._

Charlie bit her lip briefly before sending the message – it had been a long while since she’d been in a LARP, and with all the stress and drama she’d been dealing with lately, she needed the escape.

_Heartguard is about a war between the four suits of cards: the Hearts, Spades, Clovers, and Diamonds; though now the Clovers and Diamonds are all but extinct. The Heart King/Queen is new to the throne and fighting their feelings for a lowly Jacque/Jacqueline, a member of the opposing court. The Heart King/Queen had a brief romantic dalliance with the Spade Emperor/Empress, but the war got in the way and caused unrest that spanned across kingdoms._

Charlie knew the story was a bit clichéd; but most LARPs were, and that was part of what made them fun. She also couldn’t help but notice the similarities between the LARP’s story and her current situation.

_Are you holding auditions?_ Charlie texted, biting into another chip.

She waited for a few minutes, scrolling through the _Harry Potter_ fanfiction she was reading, and her phoned dinged again.

_Nah, just tell me what role you want and it’s yours. Auditions get messy and personal._

Charlie read the summary again and bit the inside of her cheek. Her fangirl heart yearned to the Heart Queen, but she worried about who would be her love interest. In order to be authentic, she would probably have to be romantic with the Spade Emperor/Empress, as well as the Jack/Jacqueline of all Trades…

The door to her apartment opened and closed, and a plastic bag landed in front of Charlie’s face, narrowly missing her bag of Doritos.

“I bought lunch.” Jo said with a grin. “Mom gave me the night off, d’you want to watch a movie or something?”

“Wonder Woman?” Charlie asked hopefully.

“Is that even on DVD yet?” Jo asked, removing her jacket and stretching. Her t-shirt rode up to reveal a sliver of pale skin along her waistband. Charlie tore her eyes away before she could think too much about it.

“No, but I have my ways.” Charlie wiggled her fingers in a weak imitation of doing magic, and Jo rolled her eyes.

“As long as you don’t send the FBI banging down our door, I’m down for anything.”

“Would it be okay if I invited Anna?” Charlie inquired, guilt squirming inside her that she hadn’t thought of her sooner.

“Go for it.” Jo shrugged. “Jess has a date with Garth tonight, so I know she can’t come…”

“Wait, doesn’t that mean your mom is handling the Roadhouse alone?”

“Jess and Garth’s date is _at_ the Roadhouse.” Jo replied with a bemused smile. “They’re such dorks.”

“Right.” Charlie raised her phone and texted Anna.

* * *

Curled under a faded KU blanket, Anna fidgeted in her sleep, lost in her dreams.

_“Three days later, another car rolled off that same line. No one gave two craps about her…but they should’ve, because this 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car…no. The most important object in pretty much the whole universe.”_

_A rotund man with white fuzzy hair slapped onto the sides of his head triumphantly held up a set of keys to a familiar car, a grin so wide it could have broken the world in two._

_“She was first owned by Sal Moriarty. An alcoholic with two ex-wives and three blocked arteries. On weekends he’d drive around, giving bibles to the poor; ‘getting folks ripe for Judgement Day’ – that’s what he said. Sam and Dean don’t know any of this but if they did; I bet they’d smile.”_

_Another shot of the car, a little dirtier and worse for the wear, but still with all her charm._

_“After Sal died, she ended up at Rainbow Motors, a used car lot in Lawrence, where a young Marine bought her on impulse – that is, after a little advice from a friend. I guess that’s where this story begins.”_

Anna’s hand formed a fist as the dream continued, though the gesture wasn’t angry – it was as though she held a paintbrush, and her hand began making the movements of a skilled artist across a blank canvas 

Two men are prominently featured – Anna knew their faces by heart.

_Dean sat on the right side of the car’s lid, Sam on the left. They each held half-empty bottles of beer, their eyes on the stars and the unknown future._

_They’re sitting by the car – they do that a lot – when Dean says to Sam: “Truth is…watching out for you…it’s kind of been my job, you know? More than that – it’s who I am.”_

Anna gasped and shot straight up, the vibration of her phone reverberating on the couch. She looked around wildly, momentarily forgetting where she was.

Suddenly she’s too hot; so she throws off the blanket and curls into a ball, not awake to categorize her feelings as panic but aware enough told hold back a sob.  

_Sunlight filtered through the vertical blinds onto a plush pink carpet. A young girl was pacing back and forth across the room, her dirty red hair falling in tangled strands past her shoulders. She was muttering to herself, her movements getting more and more erratic as she did._

_“Anna?”_

_The girl looked up – a small boy with bright blue eyes and messy black hair stood in the doorway._

_“Hey, Cassie.” Anna said softly. “What do you need?”_

_“Nothing, he’s fine.” Gabriel gently shoved Castiel away before he could answer._

_Anna stopped pacing and curled into a ball on her unmade bed. She couldn’t stop thinking about the evil smile that Lucifer must have been sporting when he watched their family home go up in flames. Did he know that she, Gabriel, and Castiel had survived? Did he even care?_

Anna could feel herself spiraling, and she struggled to keep her grip on reality. At that moment, her hand found her cell phone, and on it was a text from Charlie.

_Charlie <heart eyes emoji>  
_ _Wanna come over to my place and watch Wonder Woman with me and Jo?_

Anna smiled – it was such a nerdy thing to do, and affection blossomed inside her. It was no secret that she and Charlie had been having problems, not to anyone that paid a little extra attention. It was things like this though – these little things – that kept Anna from breaking up with her.

She sent a text back: _Sure. Be there in ten._

* * *

 

Deep in the bowels of Lawrence, a single business stood out among the rest. Hell’s Gate, an establishment built on the agony of others, was where the crime lord Crowley made his deals.

“You got an appointment?”

Michael Novak rolled his eyes 

“Yes, you ingrate.” Michael responded, but before he could say anything else, a smooth British accent spoke over him.

“Stand down.” Crowley clapped the bodyguard on his shoulder. “Go feed Juliet.”

“You still have that hellhound?” Michael asked as the guard skulked away, looking none too pleased to be dismissed.

“Dogs are a man’s best friend,” Crowley answered. “Step into my office.”

Crowley’s office was large and opulent, despite the appearance of the building on the outside. The King of Lawrence sat down in his fine leather desk chair, an eyebrow raised in question as Michael stared him down.

“I want you to look into the backgrounds of Dean and Samuel Winchester, as well as Charlene Bradbury.”

“Straight to the point as always,” Crowley said, sighing wearily, though looking remarkably unsurprised. “What do you have to offer me?”

Michael leaned back and smiled.

“I believe you received two checks from a certain Winchester about six months ago. One cleared, while the other bounced?”

Crowley didn’t bother asking how Michael knew about that. “I can ensure that you get the money you’re owed, with interest.”

“I’m listening.”

* * *

Mary Winchester hummed the words of “Hey Jude” as she worked, dusting the entertainment stand and ceiling fan, carefully picking up different objects to dust under them. Once she was done with that, she starting running the vacuum across her carpeted floors and then the hardwood, watching with a sort of muted interest as the machine worked.

Curly blond hair was piled on top of her head, a faded maroon jogging suit hugging her athletic form. Under the jacket, KU’s logo peaked out, the smiling Jayhawk standing over the words ‘University of Kansas MOM’. She couldn’t remember whether Dean or Sam had given it to her, as they were both KU students at one point or another.

The whir of the device drowned out the sound of knocking at first, but as she paused in her strides, she heard it again.

Walking toward the door, she gasped once she opened it.

“Mary,”

Samuel Campbell’s voice was grave, his face pale in the Kansas winter sun. “Matt is sick.”

Clearly, the words struck a chord with Mary because she wordlessly invited her estranged father into her home.

“I know it’s been a long time, but he’s been asking for you.” Samuel began, his voice tense and posture rigid. “He misses his baby sister. We all do.”

“I’m only five minutes younger than him,” Mary grunted, leaning back in her chair. “Was he too sick to come himself?”

“He’s on his deathbed. Cancer.”

The news hit Mary like a freight train. 

“And you only decided to tell me this now?” she demanded. “Why did you never pick up a phone, Dad?”

“I tried!” Samuel protested. “But your bastard husband changed all of your numbers – I even got Gwen and Christian to show me how to use Facebook, but none of you use social media-” he cut himself off, his head hung low. “Listen to me, Mary. You need to come back – to come home.”

“This is my home,” Mary said coolly. Samuel winced but didn’t deign to respond beyond that. He tried a different approach.

“He’s your twin brother – don’t you have some sort of psychic connection?”

“No. Don’t you think I would have reached out sooner?” Mary replied, her voice laced with derision and sarcasm. “How much time does he have? 

“Doctors say anywhere from six weeks to six months.”

“That’s quite a range.”

Samuel shrugged.

Mary’s gaze drifted around the room, taking in the familiar pictures and decorations that she, John, Sam, and Dean had collected over the years.

John with some of his buddies from the Marine Corps, their wedding day, Dean’s first day of kindergarten, Sam’s first steps (he walked toward Dean), Dean when he lost his first tooth, Sam when he won his fourth grade spelling bee…her family didn’t know about any of these things. Why would they? Did they even want too?

Still, the pictures had become more and more sporadic as the boys grew older. Dean with the Impala outside KU, Sam heading off to Stanford…she didn’t have any recent pictures of them. Her chest ached at the thought – they all lived so close, how could they see each other so infrequently? She supposed that Dean was preoccupied with the shop and being back in school, Sam was finishing his education as well…it was no one’s fault that they hadn’t spent time together, it was just a combination of unlucky circumstances.

“Fine.” Mary said finally, and Samuel looked up. “I’ll come and say goodbye.”

It only took her a few minutes to pack a duffel bag, a few days worth of clothes and toiletries, and she only hesitated slightly when Samuel cleared off his passenger seat for her.

Before climbing into the car, she scrawled a note to Sam and Dean, in case they came looking for her, and locked the door, leaving 485 Robintree Lane behind.

* * *

**MISSOURI WELCOMES YOU!**

Claire sighed heavily as the Greyhound bus crossed from Illinois to Missouri. Her backpack sat beside her and her phone was in her lap. She had her headphones turned up to an almost obnoxious volume. She could’ve flown, but she didn’t have any of the paperwork or patience for the TSA that going to the airport would require.

At this point in the trip, she was a little under eight hours away from Lawrence – from meeting her father, face to face. Nervousness clenched her stomach, along with hunger – the bus would have to stop at a rest point soon, and she promised herself she would buy a greasy feast. 

* * *

**Leaving KANSAS  
** **Come Again**

Mary leaned her head against the cool car window, choosing to stare at the scenery rather than engage in awkward conversations with her father. She didn’t _want_ to leave Lawrence, not really, but she felt like she had too in a way. She owed it to Matt to at least pay her respects, even if she hadn’t spoken with him since Sam was a baby.

She hoped that Sam and Dean would understand why she hadn’t called or texted, that she didn’t want to burden them. She knew John was probably rolling over in his grave at the prospect of her being surrounded by her family again – they’d almost broken up because of them once before – but she was so tired of living her life according to what others wanted.

So, for once, she did what _she_ wanted.

And if that meant a road trip to Illinois, then so be it.

* * *

For his part, Sam was typing away on his laptop, the KU library still open for students despite the semester’s conclusion earlier that week. He still wanted to talk to Gabriel, to sort out what was going on with him, but at the same time, he knew the other man needed space.

So he took the time to post a new chapter of his short story to the online independent writer’s forum. He hadn’t been completely sure about his decision to publish online, but he also figured, what was the worst that could happen?

A notification popped up on his phone – a new email from an address Sam didn’t recognize.

[rubydelacroix@indiewriters.net](mailto:rubydelacroix@indiewriters.net) writes:

_Good afternoon Mr. Winchester:_

_My name is Ruby Delacroix, and I’m a literary agent for a small publishing company based in Brooklyn, New York. I read through your short story collection on Independent Writers and I was wondering if you’d like to have a chat over the phone about a potential publication._

_Please note that this is not a book deal; this is simply an initial consultation regarding a perspective contract with our company._

_If you are interested, please reply to this e-mail. If not, I will take your lack of response as a no and move on my merry way._

_Cheers,_

_Ruby Delacroix_  
_Associate Literary Agent, Brooklyn Books_  
_205 Kaz Road  
_ _Brooklyn, New York 11207_

Sam felt like all of the air had been punched out of him. A literary agent – a representative in the writing world – wanted to discuss a contract?! His heart nearly stopped beating, his thoughts racing as he put together his response – he definitely wanted to be seen as reliable and dependable right off the bat.

He put together what he hoped was a deftly written and well-constructed e-mail and pressed send before he could change his mind.

He couldn’t wait to tell Gabriel!

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: That’s all for now, folks. Please comment and leave kudos, they truly mean the world to me!
> 
> -Charmy


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